Neal Gets Drunk
by Junipertree
Summary: PG13 for a very rude song. Not that nasty though. The title pretty much explains it, hope it's funny! One last chapter, this is the END!
1. Neal Gets Drunk

Neal Gets Drunk

Maybe chapter 1, maybe a single story deal...

I got this idea from an English assignment we had to do a while ago, for Valentine's Day. I hated it then, but I love it now! Thank you, Wobbler! I did an attempt to be funny, you'd think I'd be better at it after reading all that Gordon Korman. I hope someone out there likes it.

____________________________________________________________________

It was one of those court parties, where people dressed up in their finest and drank fancy wine. There were some musicians, the dullest around, of course. Keladry of Mindelan sat at her table, hoping this infinite torture would end. Just when she thought things were at their dullest...

"Ladiesh and gentlemen," Neal announced. "I now hash a speshial presentation for yoush.." 

Kel noticed that Neal was extremely drunk, swaying from side to side while he clutched a half-empty mug of ale in one hand. Uh oh...

"I would like to sish a song to thish one and onlish, Lashy Squire." Despite being plastered, Neal's lyrics were clear and resonant, everyone could understand them perfectly.

"Oh..... roses are red, violets are blue, everyone thinks you're hot, and Cleon times two..."

Cleon blushed beet-red and pulled his hat down as far as it would go.

"I reach forward, for two objects, large in size, what I get is two fists, and you black both my eyes..."

He continued. "You may say, that this song is corny, but just thinkin' 'bout you, makes me feel horny..."

Kel's face was now almost entirely red. "They say Daine is sexy, with her silky brown hair, but everyone knows she's got the hots for Numair..."

Now it was Daine's turn to blush. "Cleon'd say, Oh now my dove! And we'd fight a duel, over your riding glove..."

"Roses are red, apples are green, I like your legs, and what's in betwee-" Neal was cut off by a rough jerk from Kel, who pulled him bodily off the table he was standing on by his arm.

"Show's over pal," she said, blushing furiously. Everyone was laughing. King Jonathan wiped tears of mirth from his face, the Knight Commander of the King's Own laughed so hard he fell off his chair, and even the Lord Wyldon struggled to keep his composure. Her friends were all pounding the floor in hilarity, even Cleon, and she shot them a bruising look.

"I hope you get the worst hangover you ever had," she muttered to the befuddled Neal.

"Seeya, folksh!" he said as he was pushed out the door by Keladry.

____________________________________________________________________

If that was even vaguely funny I will jump for joy and race around the room three times before sitting down to write a sequel which will probably be half as funny if I'm lucky. So....R/R! Credits: the line "Roses are red, apples are green, I like your legs, and what's in between" was written by Orpheo (or-FAY-oh) in my class as the first part of his love poem. I'm not that sick. I know that was short, I try (and fail) to make stuff longer. PS, the duel over the riding glove was fought between Gary and Raoul, and it was Delia of Eldorne's glove. Sir Gareth the Elder sent them on border patrols to cool off.


	2. Mad Mage and Pie

Before I continue I would like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews, and gods know that I am trying to make the sequel just as good. Every word is a drop of blood. I didn't expect such a response, and now I feel obligated to do more. I am such a wishy-washy! But, my logic is if I can pull this off I will be free of guilt for the rest of the year. Hope it's some good! Answer to someone's question: The assignment was a Valentine's love thing. You had to write a poem, a love recipe, and more useless stuff. I also got more ideas from (man, English just eats this stuff up!) another English assignment where we had to write some poem… I can't remember what the guidelines were.

Disclaimer: I didn't create any characters except Desmaria and Iggie. TP did.

__________________________________________________________________

****

Chapter 2: Mad Mage and Pie

Kel sat patiently by Neal's bed and administered the healer's best hangover remedy. Somehow, though, she didn't feel sorry for her friend, no matter how much he moaned.

"Drink it all," she said wickedly.

"This is your revenge, isn't it, for that song."

"Mmm hmm."

"Come on, half of that stuff was true," Neal said.

"Yeah, the part about me blacking both your eyes," she said furiously, and threw the pillow at his face before leaving the room. Neal's hoarse laugh turned into a pounding headache as he lay back down on the pillows.

***

Neal was out of whack for a few days before he could get back to his regular schedule, and the classes were as boring as ever. On unrelated topic, one afternoon Kel returned to find an envelope on her pillow. She was now doubly cautious of things such as this, so when she opened the letter to reveal an anonymous poem, she wasn't suprised at all. 

It read:

This poem is devoted now

To my lovely Kel

But before I start to get mushy

I've got some insults I'd like to tell

At the ball, 

You danced with a pig

And now your ego's

Blown up twice as big

I just can't believe 

You danced with him- oh!

I suppress an urge

To call you a bimbo

You're magnificent and fantastic

You'll save all our souls

You're amazing and wonderful

You smell like egg rolls

Now I walk up to your door

This one nervous dude

But you say "Go away,

I'm not in the mood."

Your sexy looks

Got this one goon

You make half the court

Fall over in a swoon

Well you know

That lovin' you is easy- ack!

I just saw you kissing someone

Like you're on aphrodisiac

I'll proclaim my amour

Honest and true

So long as you won't

Neck with Neal too

What I'd really like to say

That you're sexy, good or bad

You often make me think of

Machismo I wish I had

Any time you want me

Just give my door a knockey

We'll have a lot of fun

Playing tonsil-hockey

Kel had no idea who it was from, and somehow she didn't want to know. She had math next, which cheered her up, as math was her favorite subject. The last assignment was to do a pie chart, and justify in your report that your chart was accurate. Her presentation was on which birdseed her starlings preferred, she knew it was kind of lame but it was the only thing she could think of. When Neal went swaggering up to the front, she recognized the same look on his face as when he went up to sing that idiotic song. 

"My pie chart was on love," he said. "Now here you can see six percent romance, three percent beauty, one percent attraction, and ninety percent... ahem."

Everybody burst out laughing.

"Yeah, now we know how your mind works, Neal!" yelled Seaver.

***

Meanwhile...

"This is going to be the best ever!" said the Cook's helper, Desmaria. 

"Shush," said Cook, but secretly he was very proud. This roast pig was the finest ever! Glazed in honey-mustard sauce, cooked to a golden brown with a roast apple in its mouth, this was the Cook's pride. "Now Des, you must wheel this cart down the hall towards the waiter's room, where she will serve their Majesties. Now chop chop!"

Desmaria quickly rolled the pig down the hall, holding her chin high. What a pig!

***

Meanwhile again...

"Okay, Ig, you must pull the switch when I say go. No! Not now! Good. This is going to be the most advanced simulacrum ever and we need no mess-ups!" Master Numair fiddled with gadgets and doo-bobs before adjusting the settings to his satisfaction.

"Yes, Master," said Iggie, his latest apprentice. Ig had a fine Gift, but was prone to trouble. "I wanna call him Frank. I had an uncle named Frank, he was really nice."

"For crying out loud, Iggie, it's a _simulacrum_. It doesn't need a name."

"But-" he protested.

"Fine. Call it Aberja if you want, just press the button. Go!"

Iggie pressed the button, as a flash of magic went through the shape on the table. Lightning flashed outside the window, as the shape came to life.

"Master! Master! It's alive!" cried Iggie. The shape on the table moaned.

"My creation! Why do I have a sudden desire to laugh evilly? Mua ha ha ha ha!!" Numair's dark-silhouetted form contrasted to the sickly green light radiating from the contorting form on the table.

Daine opened the door.

"Numair! It's almost ten-o-clock!" she said, exasperated. "Get out of your workroom, right now."

"But Daine-"

"No buts. You need your beauty rest."

"Man, so do you," Iggie muttered under his breath.

"Okay," Numair said sullenly, and opened the door.

***

Back in the Kitchens...

Desmaria proudly pushed the pig cart, not noticing the small stone that caught under one wheel....

__________________________________________________________________

Bet you guys are gonna kill me for that one, eh? Please don't flame me, I know this one wasn't the greatest but you guys are all clamoring for more and I didn't know what to do. Don't expect any more poems or songs, I have no more ideas on that one. I kept having morbid and depressing ideas like "You love someone else, that I just can't abide, please excuse me now, while I commit suicide." I will write one more chapter but it won't be too long, and if you're nice I might just tell you who wrote the poem.... heh heh heh.... All credits to Mary Shelley for writing Frankenstein, anyone who didn't notice that takeoff is really thick.


	3. Conclusion and a Pig

Okay, I am just doing this to finish off the whole Neal Gets Drunk thing, and I am NOT WRITING ANY MORE!!! I am not doing any more rude poems or songs (I've got no more ideas) and I am just doing this to tuck in the ends. I have one last thing to say, this is a note to RS (no full name, to preserve her privacy). Product of a twisted mind! Hee hee hoo ha ha! That is probably the truth. (hee hee) So, we have…

_____________________________________________________________________

****

Neal Gets Drunk

Chapter 3: Conclusion and a Pig

Desmaria wheeled the cart down the hall, not noticing when a stone caught under one of the wheels. With a Crash! Bang! Des fell flat on her face and the cart went careening down the hall. _Uh, oh…_ she thought.

Numair, just leaving his lab, was greeted by a roast pig on a platter smashing into him and carrying him down the hall. He was hung by the back of his coat, hanging on to the bottom shelf of the cart for dear life. 

"Yes, Lord Wyldon, you may leave now," said the Mithran Priest in charge of Mathematics. Wyldon had just been watching the pages as they got their lessons, and was about to leave.

"All right, I'm just making sure that these lumps get their book learning, not that they could learn anything," The Stump growled, and opened the door.

"What the-" Lord Wyldon saw a cart with a roast pig on the top shelf and Numair on the bottom come sailing towards him too late. The collision seemed to be in slow motion; Wyldon was hit by the cart and the cart went flying overhead. 

"Ooh, ow, get off-"

"Your elbow is in my mouth!"

"I'm covered in honey-mustard sauce!"

When finally it all settled down, Numair was standing up, dripping honey-mustard sauce, with a pig's ear nestled in his hair, and poor Lord Wyldon was lying stomach down on the ground, the pig's tail stuck in his pants and an apple in his mouth.

"Ah an' 'awk an' Ah 'ot a' auul e' 'y 'outh!"

Wyldon spat out the apple. "What is the meaning of this, your powerful mageness?!? Do you enjoy riding pigcarts in your spare time!?!"

By now all of the pages and quite a few palace dwellers were gathered around this scene, giggling and pointing.

Numair put on a straight face. "Why no, actually, I just finished creating a monster- er, simulacrum, and I was going to my rooms."

Wyldon rose in a dignified manner, and stalked off.

______________________________________________________________

Aargh! I don't care if everyone hates it! I just never want to write another Neal Gets Drunk again!! Give me flames! Comments! Worship! Whatever, I just want to see if I can break seventy!

****


End file.
